Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Hunny thinks she needs to protect and serve. It’s a dog’s job, I suppose. But she’s a total city slicker when it comes to facing creatures of the back woods.

I was in the house when I heard PBX yelling from the garage, “Hunny just went one-on-one with a porcupine!”

The next thing I saw was my poor baby running toward me with these in her snout.They looked like extra whiskers.

I ran around the kitchen in a panic (arms flailing and all), “What do we do? What do we do?”

PBX and her dad both said, matter-of-factly, “We take them out.”

Oh.

I looked at my girl again. She was licking and panting and pacing. I was following suit. “I can’t do it.”

Meanwhile, Piper is barking and whining like a madman. He worries and gets anxious enough for everyone.

There was a moment of deciding whether to bring Hunny to the vet or to deal with it ourselves.

We hoisted Hunny onto the table. I held her against my body while PBX ran for the needle-nose pliers.

She returned like a surgeon, “This is going to hurt her.” I think she was waiting for my okay before beginning the torture.

As PBX yanked each quill, Hunny squirmed and jutted her head back, nearly hitting my face with quills. She let out one tiny yelp. I think it was the second quill.

After that, it was a fight to keep her still. I used all my strength to hold Hunny in a hogtie while PBX braved the possibility of getting poked by quills -- or bitten by Hunny.

She did get poked. But Hunny never bit her. She never even tried.

I get teary-eyed just thinking about how agonizing the whole process was.

Hunny may only weigh 23 lbs but she put my strength to the test. She nearly escaped twice.

But we had to keep going. The last two quills were killer. In so deep that we could hardly see the ends.

The thing about quills is, they are barbed. They hurt more coming out than going in.Hunny was a trooper. Amazing. Just a little blood, slight shaking and panting. By the time we were finished getting all thirteen (possibly fourteen because we dropped one) quills out, she was acting like her regular self: “Hey guys, where’s food?”

She knows she gets treats after she “takes her medicine” – and this was some medicine.

After her feeding, we still had to deal with the porcupine in the garage. The peacemobile was blocking an entrance – I needed to move it to the driveway to clear a path for the critter to leave in peace.

I had a rush of fear walking out to the garage without some kind of armored suit, but then I remembered PBX’s dad mentioned porcupines can’t “shoot” their quills – that’s a myth.

We got the little (big) guy out of the garage but he chose the nearest tree to climb. There’s a good chance he’s back – all toasty warm in the garage. But I won’t be reaching for anything in the dark, and Hunny will be on a leash.

PS - We don't have internet at home yet (next week) so I wrote this last night. This morning, I found another quill in Hunny's lip. Deep and bloody. Pooooooor girl slept all night, shaking, in pain, because we totally missed another quill.

Ack. Breaks my heart all over again.

We got it out right away. No more shaking or panting. She's resting comfortably.

They say some dogs learn to stay clear of porcupines after the first experience. Others keep going back for more. Apparently, Hunny falls in the latter category. She seems determined to even the score every time we open the door.

Donna, you're so right about that! Proof that communication in relation to pets is key. She totally knew we were helping. I still ache when I think of that night. :(

Robbie, if pulling quills from a dog's face makes Paula a country bumpkin then it's an honorable title. She was amazing. Apparently, her dad used to be the one to do that stuff. Instead, he held the flashlight to Hunny's face. Paula was in survival mode. She just "did it" without question. She rocks!